


Tracker

by sara_merry99



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:03:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_merry99/pseuds/sara_merry99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin takes on a tracking job that goes tragically wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tracker

**Author's Note:**

> A Note in Warning: The book Josiah reads from is "The Practice of Surgery", by Samuel Cooper, with notes by Dr. Alexander H. Stevens. This book served as the "How To" guide for Civil War surgeons. The story has graphic descriptions of medical procedures. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Thanks to Catyah for miles of encouragement. Big squeezy hugs to sassyinkpen and spikedluv for the betas. :D

# Tracker

Chris sat in the shade outside the jailhouse, reading. The day was hot, but the breeze, faint as it was, made outside a hair more pleasant than the stifling heat inside. He wasn't paying a lot of thought to his book, it was as familiar and comfortable as an old boot, but it kept folks in town from talking to him unless they had important business.

The sound of horses attracted his attention immediately, and he smiled to see Vin and Ezra returning from their patrol. Apparently all was quiet with the outlying farms; they were walking in with no particular urgency. The day was too hot even for troublemakers, Chris supposed.

Ezra dismounted and led his horse around toward the livery. Vin tipped his hat to him, exchanging a word and a smile, and dismounted in front of the saloon. He had the look of a man who wanted a beer to wash the trail dust out of his mouth, and Chris was inclined to join him. Turning back to his book, Chris pretended to read for a bit, stretching his legs out comfortably in front of him, more relaxed than he had been. He'd stay on reading until Vin was inside, seated, before joining him. It wasn't exactly that he'd been waiting for Vin to get back, after all. Just that he'd be pleased to have a beer with him, maybe some supper or cards.

Chris had barely read a paragraph when he heard a commotion from down the street. Looking up he saw one of the town's newest residents, Mrs. Greenlaw, a small birdlike woman from Boston, running along the street shouting, "Mr. Standish, Mr. Standish. Did you see my Abel? He ran away and I was hoping you saw him when you were out riding."

Ezra stopped in the street and turned to look at Vin.

Vin shook his head, and said, "He was on foot?" Without looking at him, she nodded. "No, ma'am. We didn't see nobody on foot. Couple of folks on horseback a ways off, but that was it."

Chris stood, grabbing his duster off the back of his chair with a sigh.

She put her hand on Ezra's arm, thin fingers holding his coat tight, "You've got to help us, please, Mr. Standish. Find him and bring him home." Her voice was shrill and her words tumbled out in a panicked rush. "Mrs. Travis says that you and your friends help people around here. Please find Abel."

Chris ambled over, waiting to see how things would develop.

Ezra patted dust off his jacket and said, "From what I've observed, madam, Abel is an intelligent young man. The desert is most unpleasant. He'll have sense enough return to the comforts of home soon."

Hands wringing, quivering in her anxiety, Mrs. Greenlaw said, "He'll get lost in that desert, I'm certain of it. Maybe he'll get taken by Indians. Or attacked by a cougar."

Chris shook his head. Their fear of the new land they'd chosen had him positive that the Greenlaws'd be leaving by winter, whether their shop prospered or not. Jacob Greenlaw seemed to have a bare hint of the toughness of spirit needed to learn to live in the desert, and if he said stay, his wife and teenage son would have little choice but to do so. But Chris didn't figure that was going to happen.

Ezra turned to look at Vin again, passing the question along. Vin shook his head and said, "That don't seem real likely, ma'am. Ain't no cougars right round here. And the local Indians wouldn't take a boy. Not for no reason."

Without appearing to have heard Vin, Mrs. Greenlaw clutched Ezra's arm again. "Please, please, bring my son back."

Chris walked more quickly, irritated at her continual dismissal of Vin. He understood it, to an extent. The Greenlaws had made no effort to hide the fact that they weren't sure how to relate to Vin. When they addressed him at all it was as a child or servant.

"Ma'am," Ezra said, eyes flicking gratefully to Chris as he approached. "I am afraid that I'm not the person most well suited to this task. My colleague, Mr. Tanner," he gestured to Vin, "is a tracker and knows this desert better than anyone in the Arizona Territory." Vin tightened his lips in disagreement but said nothing. "He is the best man to seek your son." He slipped his arm out of her grasp, tipped his hat to her, and led his horse toward the livery.

Chris slid into place next to Vin as Mrs. Greenlaw finally, reluctantly turned to acknowledge him. There could hardly be a sharper contrast between Vin, in his hide coat and plain shirt, long hair waving in the slight breeze, and Mrs. Greenlaw, dainty and proper in her blue lawn dress with her black hair pulled into a tight bun. When she saw Chris, Mrs. Greenlaw turned to him instead, obviously glad to have someone other than Vin to talk to. "Mr. Larabee. I was hoping some of your men could go find my Abel."

"I heard," Chris said, holding to his patience. "Ezra's right, Vin's best for the job." He turned to Vin, who nodded, apparently just as grateful as Mrs. Greenlaw for the buffer between them.

"I might could find him." Chris smiled at the self deprecating words, but said nothing. "When'd he leave?" Vin asked, addressing the woman in front of him.

For a moment Chris thought that Mrs. Greenlaw wouldn't answer the direct question, but she finally said, "He and my husband got into a row just before lunch and Abel ran off. Three hours ago, perhaps."

"Which direction?" Vin asked.

Mrs. Greenlaw, her handkerchief fluttering in the faint breeze, pointed down the street opposite the way Ezra and Vin had just arrived from, which explained why Vin hadn't seen him.

That was apparently as much attention as Mrs. Greenlaw was willing to give Vin because she then turned to Chris. "Please, Mr. Larabee, please won't you go?"

Chris caught Vin's eye, and saw a hint of irritation there along with a whole lot of welcome. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Greenlaw, said, "Yes, ma'am," and turned toward the livery to collect Pony. If he couldn't have a beer with Vin, at least he could spend some time with him. That would be worth the discomfort of a ride in this heat.

Behind him, Vin said, "We'll set out in just a minute, ma'am."

When Chris got back out to the street with his horse, Mrs. Greenlaw was watching Vin from the safety of the General Store's window. Vin sat on Peso taking a swig from his canteen.

As Chris mounted, he said, "You could have gotten a beer while you were waiting for me."

Vin shook his head. "Thought to, but she," he flicked a glance at the woman in the window, "squawked like I'd hit her when I walked toward the saloon. Figured I'd be better off waiting."

***

Four hours later, Chris waited as patiently as he could, and watched Vin work. Every few steps Vin would hunker down, sometimes he'd touch or trace something on the ground, something Chris could barely see. Other times he'd lean right over and lay his cheek on the grass. Then he'd mount again and they'd ride twenty or thirty feet before he dismounted once more.

It was frustratingly slow work and he didn't understand how Vin could stand it. He felt an urge to spur Pony into a gallop and ride out across the desert toward the mountains, apparently the direction Abel Greenlaw was headed, and catch the boy up. Peso was frustrated too, and kept nudging and distracting Vin.

At least now they were making progress again. He'd been about out of his mind when Vin lost the trail at a series of flat rocks and they went around them in circles for an hour, spiraling slowly outward, until he picked up a track he was certain belonged to the boy. Vin was silent the whole time, staring at the ground as he led Peso around the rock. Chris thought about suggesting they just pick a direction and go in it, in hopes of catching Abel, but one look at Vin's face, square jaw set, settled him back to waiting.

Now, their shadows were starting to lengthen beside them. "Vin, it's getting late. Do you know where he's headed?"

"I might could tell you if he knew hisself," Vin said, looking up at him, dusty face streaked with sweat. "Every few paces he sees something new and thinks to run that way for a spell. His track's as crooked as a drunk's. Worse. At least a drunk usually knows where he's going."

"Greenhorns," Chris said, without malice. "They shouldn't let folks further west than Chicago if they don't know how to stay alive out here."

Vin ignored him, fingering something in the grass. Broken twig maybe. Peso stomped and knocked Vin's hat off. Vin pushed the horse away by the nose and retrieved his hat from the ground.

Chris grunted and settled back. Vin lowered his head and looked right along the top of the grass toward the setting sun. The golden sunlight found sparks in his hair, gilded the edge of his cheekbone. Chris's eyes tracked the strong line of Vin's jaw, softened by the glitter of beard stubble, followed the line of his shoulder and back, strong and capable.

Two steps later, Vin was squatting, staring intently at the grass. Peso nudged Vin hard in the back, tipping off his hat again and knocking him off balance.

Vin pushed the horse away as he swore, "Goddamned mule, you near made me wreck the track," then held Peso's reins up and back in a silent request. Chris was nudging Pony gently forward so he could reach them even before Vin said, "Hold him for me, cowboy. If you happen to shoot him on accident, I won't mind a bit."

Chris snorted as he took the reins. If he hurt a hair on Peso's hide, Vin'd be likely to shoot him. Man and horse were both ornery and stubborn as hell, but they were a pair. Without question.

Pony was straining at the bit, pulling toward a clump of grass a foot or so ahead of Vin. Chris held him in, much to the horse's disgust. Chris had already been snapped at for blocking the light and he didn't much like the idea of facing Vin if he or the horse damaged some mark or sign he couldn't even guess was there.

He was caught up in holding Pony back, both hands on the reins, Peso's reins looped over his saddle horn, when Vin stood up suddenly with a soft curse. "He got bit by a snake, Chris. Took off in a blind panic." Vin pointed toward the south, the direction of Purgatorio, gateway to the harsh lands of Mexico. "He's headed south. Running."

Chris scowled and asked, "Rattler?" He hoped that Vin would recognize the snake from something, the way the grass bent under it maybe, or the shape of the track it left. Hoped there was something that would reassure him that it was just a rat snake.

Vin dashed his fragile hopes, saying, "No way to tell in this grass 'less I find the snake. Ain't worth the effort. He should be easy to catch now."

Chris nodded and handed Peso's reins over to Vin. Pony seemed to sense that something was coming because he'd lost his fidgety restlessness and was now poised, waiting for a command. "Let's go get him then," Chris said. If Abel'd been bitten by a rattler, running was about the worst thing he could be doing. No sense offering to go back for Nathan. With the lead he had, the boy might well be dead already.

When Vin was seated on Peso, Chris nudged Pony into a lope. Peso fell in next to him, Vin sitting high in the saddle scanning the horizon for any sign of the boy. But there was nothing but rocks and grass, both burned to the same dun shade by the blazing desert sun, and sparsely scattered trees. The trees were thin enough that their shade hardly seemed worth the effort of getting to it.

After a minute, Chris spotted something near one of the rocks, a hint of movement. While he was still looking to see if the smudge of shadow could possibly be Abel, Vin said, "Got him," and spurred Peso into a gallop, taking off at a different angle. Without a question, Chris followed him.

Abel was crumpled in the dappled shade of a tree three-quarters of a mile on. Chris didn't see him until they were a third of the way there, but he never doubted that Vin was right about where the boy was. Never doubted that Vin would find him.

Now if only he was okay.

Abel was hunched on the ground, a pool of vomit in front of him, his hair wet with sweat. He was curled into a ball, breathing labored. Chris stroked his forehead, brushing back the curls that stuck to his cheek. The kid was burning up, but that could be heat stroke as much as snake bite. "Which leg?" he asked.

Vin appeared on the other side of the boy. "Left. Reckon just above the ankle."

Chris nodded and rested his hand gently on Abel's calf. At the barest touch, the boy screamed in agony. The scream died away in a keen of pain like an injured animal, and then fell silent. Damn. "Got to get these pants off."

Vin nodded. "Yep," he said, handing Chris his knife. The thin city fabric gave way easily under the heavy knife. Abel's leg was black, blistered and stark white near the bite, with angry red streaks running way up past his knee. Vin muttered a curse. "He ain't wearin' boots? Those shoes wouldn't stop a scorpion, Chris. Why'd his folks let him go out like this?"

"They don't know any better," Chris said, feeling more sympathy than anger for Abel and his parents. Chris applied himself to cutting off the leather shoe. The Greenlaws still hadn't settled into their home behind the new mercantile, still hadn't opened their new shop, and they stood fair to lose their boy. Chris shook his head.

The touch of the knife on the leather caused Abel to whimper and Chris steeled himself to the pain he was causing, but didn't stop his work. That shoe needed to come off. Abel heaved and puked again, blood mixed with yellow bile. Vin moved the boy's head away from the mess, leaving a bloody streak on the grass.

While Chris finished cutting off Abel's shoe, Vin used his bandanna and a strip of cloth to bandage the bite, which was bleeding and blistered. Vin shook his head. "With all that running he did, there ain't no point in a tourniquet. The poison's all through him now." He looked again at the leg. "He's gonna lose that leg, ain't he?" His voice was sad and heavy.

Chris didn't answer, though he knew Vin was right. Once the shoe was off the swollen foot, Chris turned to Vin. "How long back to town?"

"An hour, maybe a bit more. That's flat out. With him riding double, least two and half." Vin stroked the pale cheek. "One of us could go get Nathan and bring him back, but he don't have that much time Chris, you know that," Vin said.

Chris nodded, but just said, "Is there a farm that'd be a closer ride?"

Vin thought for a second, and Chris imagined him studying a map in his head. A map that showed every tree, every hill, every farm and house, in the Arizona Territory. "Stokely place. You know it?"

Chris thought for a minute, then nodded, "Near the big old oak tree at the entrance to Baker Pass."

"That's it. Even with him it shouldn't be all of two hours. Miz Stokely's real nice. I reckon his ma and pa would rather you tended to Abel. I'll meet you there with Nathan," Vin said. Chris felt a spike of anger at the thought that Vin was undoubtedly right, but said nothing. Vin led Pony close, holding him while Chris mounted.

Between them they got Abel situated as best they could, slung across the saddle with only slightly more grace than a sack of feed. He was unconscious and silent except for the hard breathing and didn't respond to anything they did. Not even when they knew it had to hurt.

As soon as Chris and Abel were settled Vin mounted Peso. He paused for a second then said, "Nathan and me'll be waiting for you at the Stokely farm. Take care of him." His face was shadowed by the sunset behind him and Chris couldn't make out his expression, but his voice was strained.

Before Chris could say anything, Vin clapped spurs to Peso's sides and flipped the reins, taking off at a ferocious gallop.

Chris adjusted the limp weight of the boy, surprised at it. Abel had more meat on him than Chris expected, and Chris had to remind himself that he wasn't that much younger than JD'd been when he came to Four Corners. Just a whole hell of a lot greener. He shook his head at the thought, and nudged Pony into a hard trot.

The first half of that ride was a nightmare of heat and sweat, vomit and blood and a hellish red sunset, the likes of which Chris'd never seen. Abel roused enough that he whimpered with every step the horse took, blood leaking from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Every so often he'd heave and spew bile and blood all over himself and Chris. When he started struggling to get away from the pain, Chris slowed Pony into a walk. Just for a short spell, because the kindness of sparing the boy pain might very well kill him if he didn't get him to Nathan soon.

When Abel settled and relaxed just a bit, the worst edge of hard tension leaving his muscles, Chris pushed Pony a little faster, trying to make up the time they lost. They proceeded like that for an hour or more, until the sunset had faded into nothing more than a hint of light on the western horizon. Abel's struggles became weaker as time passed, until he just had the strength to whine pitifully.

When even that strength left him, Chris resisted the temptation to stop and check on the boy, he could tell everything he needed from the thudding fast heartbeat and painful breathing. Chris reckoned that he was still at least an hour away from the Stokely place. He eased Pony into a lope, hoping he could maintain that pace all the way.

Hoping he could still get there in time.

****

When he finally arrived at the Stokely farm, it was near full dark. Vin, looking a little uncomfortable on JD's dainty bay, Dancer, met him about half a mile out from the farm.

"I was starting to think you got lost or something," Vin said, voice tight.

"Abel couldn't take much hard riding. When he finally passed out we could move faster. He's a tough kid." Vin nodded, mouth as tight as his voice had been. "Nathan here?"

"Yep, and Josiah. Mrs. Stokely's given over her bed for the boy. Everything's ready for him. JD's wired to Eagle Bend and Bitter Creek in case they have a doctor." He looked at the boy, slumped in Chris's arms. "He okay?"

Chris shook his head. "No. But we'll do all we can for him." He rested his hand on the boy's forehead, even though he could feel the fever right through his clothes. As long as he was still hot he was still alive. That was something at least. "Did you tell his folks?"

Vin looked away. "Yeah. His ma's waiting at the Stokelys. I told 'em he was bit bad, but I don't think they know what to expect."

"I doubt anyone would," Chris said, the grimness in his heart coloring his voice. They rode the last bit of the way in silence.

Mrs. Greenlaw ran forward as soon as Chris reined Pony to a stop, crowding Chris and the boy, but too distraught to offer useful help. Mrs. Stokely stepped forward and shooed her back gently, saying, "Let the men help Abel, now, Ruth. You'll get to see him soon enough."

Mrs. Greenlaw allowed herself to be led away, her eyes, dark and filled with anguish, never leaving Abel. Tear tracks glistened on her cheeks, reflecting the lamplight.

Her place at Pony's side was taken by Nathan, who took Abel from Chris's hold. As soon as he and Vin carried Abel into the lights from the door, Nathan made a soft noise of dismay. He shook his head. "I don't know..." He turned to Josiah, standing in the doorway, "Josiah, dish up some of that willow bark tea. And start the snakeroot boiling." Josiah nodded and retreated inside without a word.

Chris stopped on the porch to slip off his duster, stained and stinking, before he went inside. The ladies didn't need to be seeing that. He sure as hell didn't need to be smelling it any longer.

When he got inside, Nathan was removing Abel's stained shirt and coat while Vin cut his trousers and drawers off. The uninjured leg was pale and strong, with almost the full growth of manhood. The contrast with the bit leg, swollen and black, shot with streaks of stark white and blazing red, was shocking.

After they had the boy settled, Nathan set himself to cleaning the wound with carbolic, trying to see the extent of the damage. The first touch of the carbolic on the wound drew a flinch and a whimper from Abel, but that was all. Nathan made another soft noise and Chris saw that his hands were shaking.

Josiah tried to coax some of the willow bark tea past the slack, bloodstained lips. "You need to drink this, son," he said, but there was no response. His voice fell to an inaudible mumble of prayer.

Through all this, Vin stood at the foot of the bed, looking lost in a way that Chris had never seen before. One of the things Chris most admired in Vin, most loved to be near and take strength from, was the sense of place he felt from Vin. Vin always knew where he was, not just on that mental map of his, but in a strange solidity no one else seemed to share. Vin traveled lightly and moved easily, Chris knew that, but he always carried the peace of being where he ought to be, no matter where that was. But now he looked completely lost, as out of place as he would at a fancy New York City ball.

Vin pushed his hat back and ran shaking fingers through his hair, then said in a mumble Chris could barely hear, "I'll tend to the horses."

As Vin walked by, Chris wanted to offer him some sort of support, but Vin didn't stop until he got to the door of the room. At the door, he looked back over his shoulder at Abel for just a moment, then faded away into the darker living room.

Chris rolled up his shirt sleeves and stepped close to Nathan, who looked up at him, face drawn. "That leg's got to come off, Chris."

Chris nodded even as his heart ached for the boy and his family. It was a hard life being a cripple, especially out here where there was always more work to be done than daylight hours to do it in. "We figured that when we saw the bite," he said, softly. "I'm sorry."

Nathan hardly seemed to notice that he'd said anything, he just went on in a hollow voice, "I ain't never done no surgery like that. Seen it done a few times when I was with the Army." He shuddered. "Sure hope it don't go like that for him."

Chris had seen the results of some of those battlefield amputations and hoped the same. Looking up at Abel, hardly less waxy and pale than a corpse would be, the labored breathing the only sign he was alive at all, he thought for just a second that it would have been better if they'd found him dead. Spared him, and his folks, what they were going to have to go through.

Shamed that he'd even had the thought, he took a cloth and started washing Abel's face, cleaning off the blood and sweat. Making him presentable. He remembered what that'd been like, finding his family dead, would never forget it. Better this way, though maybe harder.

Nathan went to his bag and pulled out a book and some tools, including a handsaw that made Chris's stomach clench. "I've got to do some studying 'fore I start this. Learn what I can." He handed the tools to Josiah. "Go wash those off good."

Before Josiah walked away, Chris said, "Don't let Mrs. Greenlaw see that saw if you can help it."

Josiah nodded, tucked the tools under his coat, and slipped out.

Nathan draped a sheet over the boy, especially hiding the horrible looking leg, blistered and bleeding even after the carbolic. "Better bring his momma in to sit with him while I'm studying, Chris. She's got to be dying inside."

"Is Mr. Greenlaw here?" Chris asked as he stood, dropping the cloth into the bowl of blood and water at Nathan's feet.

"He had something he needed to see to in town, said he'd be along when he could," Nathan said. "Someone ought to go get him." He looked up at Chris, brown eyes dull with sorrow. "His boy's probably gon' die. If the snakebite don't get him the surgery is like to."

Chris nodded. "I know. We knew that when we found him."

He walked out of the bedroom to the sitting room where Mrs. Greenlaw sobbed, held by Mrs. Stokely. "Mrs. Greenlaw, this is a good time if you want to go sit with Abel for a spell."

She clung to Mrs. Stokely's hand as she stood and said, "Martha, you'll come with me?"

Mrs. Stokely, with a searching look at Chris who nodded, rose, saying, "Of course, sugar, of course."

There was a sharp sob as soon as Mrs. Greenlaw walked into the bedroom. Chris dropped his head for a minute, sharing the mother's pain for her boy, then walked outside.

Vin sat on the bottom porch step at the edge of the house's light, head in his hands. He didn't even look up when Chris sat down at the other end of the step. Chris sat silent with him for a moment, lighting a cheroot and taking advantage of the few minutes of calm before the storm.

Without raising his head, Vin asked, "How's Abel?"

Chris took a long puff of his cigar, then said, "Hangin' in. Barely. Nathan's getting ready to amputate."

Vin dropped one hand and smacked the open palm on the step next to him. "He ain't going to make it is he?" His voice had none of its usual calm. He sounded ragged and torn, like he was losing his own son, rather than a boy he had barely known.

Chris pressed his lips together and said, "Nathan ain't giving up hope yet. No reason for us to."

Vin sprang to his feet and whirled on Chris. "Damn it, Chris, you saw how it is." Even in his upset, he kept his voice pitched low, away from the ears of Mrs. Greenlaw. A kindness he probably didn't even realize he was making.

"Yeah, I saw," Chris said, fighting his own despair at the situation. "But it don't do any good to give up on the boy either."

Vin turned to face the night, but didn't walk away as Chris half expected him to. "No, it don't. I reckon you're right." He turned back, his face drawn. "I'll help."

Chris took another long drag, then stood and said, "I never doubted it, Vin." Vin looked away, over Chris's shoulder, refusing even that small a compliment. "Someone needs to ride into town and find out what's keeping Mr. Greenlaw. Bring him back."

Vin appeared to shrink into the folds of his hide coat, then he squared his shoulders. "I'll go. See if JD found a doctor too."

Chris stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Be a damn sight easier for me to do it, Vin. And I reckon Mr. Greenlaw'd rather hear the news from me."

Vin nodded, with a grateful look in his eyes. "If you'd rather, I ain't gonna stop you. Take Dancer," he said, "Pony's wore out from carrying you and Abel."

Before Chris turned to walk away, he squeezed Vin's slim shoulder. "You okay?"

Vin shrugged, but Chris couldn't tell if that was an answer to his question or just to shake off Chris's hand. There was no point in pressing the question, if Vin didn't want to say more he wouldn't, so Chris walked to the barn without another word. When he rode out a few minutes later, Vin was nowhere to be seen.

***

After a quick talk with JD, Chris went to the saloon. He strode through the batwing doors and spotted Buck in a shadowed corner with a slender brunette. "Buck, can I borrow your horse for a while?" he asked without preamble, startling Buck and nearly causing him to tumble the woman off his lap.

Buck settled her again, rearranging her so he could more easily see Chris. "Everything okay with that boy?"

Chris shook his head. "I need to get Mr. Greenlaw out to the Stokely farm. Steele's fast, but too steady to throw him."

Buck nodded. "Okay. But I need him back tonight. Ezra and me are riding out on patrol at dawn. Best way to beat the heat."

Chris, who had started to turn away as soon as Buck said okay, looked back over his shoulder. "Ezra?"

Buck grinned. "I had a good run of luck tonight. I told him I'd give him back his money if we got out of here before the sun was half over the horizon. Figure I win either way."

Chris let himself relax just a bit and smiled. "Don't surprise me he went for the money. I'll get your horse back."

Buck's attention was entirely on the woman in his lap by the time Chris finished speaking and he waved Chris away without a word.

After saddling Buck's horse, Chris went to the Greenlaw's shop. Through the window he could see Mr. Greenlaw working by lamplight, setting out some fancy satin ribbons. He shook his head and wondered what a lady would do with ribbons and bows out here. They'd just get wrecked by the dust or blown away by the wind.

At his knock, Mr. Greenlaw opened the door. "Mr. Larabee. How's my son?"

Chris shook his head. "It doesn't look so good, Mr. Greenlaw. Nathan says you'd best come quickly so you can see Abel before he operates."

Mr. Greenlaw, tall and lean and stooped, looked down at him. "Okay. I'll need to hire a wagon."

"I've got a horse ready for you." He gestured over his shoulder at Steele. "Just come on."

Chris wasn't sure what to expect from Mr. Greenlaw. He'd known some fathers who would have kept on working until their sons were laid in their graves. His own father had been stamped in that mold. But Mr. Greenlaw just took off his apron and, locking the door behind him, said, "Let's go."

They set off at a gentle trot. Once he'd gotten a little bit comfortable with the gait and the riding, Mr. Greenlaw turned to him and said, "What happened to my son?"

Chris took a deep breath, then said, "He was bitten by a rattlesnake. After he was bit he panicked and ran. Made things worse than if he'd just stayed still and waited to be found." Mr. Greenlaw's eyes went wide and Chris added, "But he didn't know that," to soften his words.

There was silence for a while, then Mr. Greenlaw said, "We came out here looking to make our fortune. We put all of our savings into it, everything we had. Even borrowed money from a bank."

Chris nodded. He'd put everything he had into coming west himself, Indiana being far too small and tame for him. Especially when he was younger and wilder.

"Abel hates it out here. We had a fight this morning. He said we should go back to Boston, that we were stupid to have come out here." Chris winced but said nothing. "I told him to go on back on his own, if he wanted." Mr. Greenlaw let go of the saddle horn long enough to wipe his face and said, "I didn't think he'd actually do it. He said he was going to get the train in Ridge City."

Chris looked up, then shook his head. There was no point in saying that Abel wasn't running in the direction of Ridge City. No point at all. "I reckon he'd have come back if he could, Mr. Greenlaw. Sometimes a boy just needs to get away for a while, figure out what's important on his own."

Looking over at him with exhausted, red eyes, Mr. Greenlaw said, "Do you have children, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris's heart clenched, as it always did when he thought of Adam, and he said, "Not anymore."

"Then how do you know?" Mr. Greenlaw asked, his voice carrying a hint of anger.

"I was sixteen once too, headstrong and proud," Chris said, simply. "I must have run away from home half a dozen times when my pa and I fought. I'd spend the night out in some stranger's barn or under a tree, then I'd go back home the next morning. Pa never said anything about it, just put me back to work without a word."

"It'll be a long time before Abel gets back to work, I suppose," Mr. Greenlaw said, and Chris was pleased to hear that he didn't sound angry about that fact.

Chris took a deep breath, then said, "Nathan's going to be amputating his leg. Changes the kind of work a man can do."

Mr. Greenlaw rocked back in the saddle, startling Steele into a couple of prancing steps. His face glowed pale as the moonlight. "Amputate?"

Chris nodded. "It's the only thing he can do."

Mr. Greenlaw swallowed hard, then pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and blew his nose. After a bit he said, voice thin, "I appreciate you coming for me, Mr. Larabee."

Chris smiled to accept the thank you and said, "We're in for a long night. Make it Chris."

Most of the ride passed in silence. When the lights of the Stokely's homestead were just visible in the distance, Mr. Greenlaw turned to Chris. "Your man Tanner said he lost Abel's trail..."

Chris held up his hand, and when Mr. Greelaw fell silent, said, "Vin's his own man. I'm lucky enough to count him friend is all." Every word was clipped and hard.

Greenlaw shook his head, and said in a voice like steel on rock, "Ruth said you went with him. Why didn't you make sure he kept on the trail?"

"Keep him on it? I couldn't even see it most of the time," Chris snapped. "I have no idea how Vin found your son. Or how he knew he'd been bitten by a snake when he was still a mile off. If Abel has any chance at all, it's because Vin found him while he was still alive."

Mr. Greenlaw nodded with obvious reluctance, but didn't answer.

Neither of them said anything until they rode into the yard. As they approached the house, Mr. Greenlaw said, "I just hate that Abel left angry. That I let him go away like that."

Chris nodded, some of his irritation fading. At least he didn't have the burden of knowing that his last moments with Sarah and Adam had been filled with anger rather than love. He could only imagine how much harder that would make their loss.

***

Vin was waiting for them when they rode up. Probably heard their hoofbeats before anyone else did and slipped out.

When Mr. Greenlaw reined his horse to a stop, Vin took the reins, steadying Steele while Mr. Greenlaw dismounted clumsily. "I'll tend the horse, you'd best get inside. Nathan wants to operate soon's you've had some time with your boy."

Mr. Greenlaw, tall and severe, nodded sharply and walked past with a mumble that Chris couldn't hear but that made Vin's mouth set in a hard line. Not a thank you. Chris shook his head, angry.

He dismounted, feeling the strain of the long day. He looked at Vin, wanting to ask how Vin was doing, but knowing there was no point. He offered the only small comfort he could, a break from the pain in that house, and a break from the Greenlaws. "I promised Buck someone'd take Steele back to town. He's got patrol in the morning and wants to ride out before the heat sets in. Could you do that for me? I don't much like riding Dancer." He deliberately phrased it as a request rather than an offer, knowing that Vin would find a request harder to refuse.

Vin flashed a ghost of a smile and Chris knew his ruse had been seen through. "You're just used to that big ol' quiet nag of yours. Can't take a horse with a bit of spirit." He took Dancer's reins from Chris with a nod of thanks. When he was mounted Chris passed him Steele's reins.

Once he was settled, Vin said, "Did you think to ask JD about a doctor?"

Chris nodded. "JD couldn't find a doctor in Bitter Creek or Eagle Bend. He was ready to wire to Ridge City but I told him no. Abel'll either be dead or on the mend by the time a doctor could get here from Ridge City." Before Vin rode off, Chris asked, "You coming back after you take the horse to town?"

Vin was still and silent, not answering but not leaving neither. Chris set his hand on Vin's knee, offering his presence even if that wasn't any real comfort. Vin looked down at it, then said, "Yeah. Got to see this through, I reckon. Don't do no good to try and run from a mistake."

Chris squeezed Vin's knee, then said, "This isn't your fault, Vin."

Vin tensed and took up the reins. "Ain't the way his parents see it. Ain't the way I see it, neither." He made a clucking noise and wheeled his horse away from Chris and out into the night, Buck's horse trotting behind. Steele's grey hide shone in the moonlight, marking their location long after Vin had been lost to the darkness.

Chris shook himself free of that thought and went inside.

Mr. Greenlaw was waiting outside the door to the bedroom when Chris walked in. "Mr. Jackson's a good doctor?"

Chris tilted his head and studied Mr. Greenlaw out of the side of his eye. "He'll be the first to tell you that he's not a doctor at all. But he's the only hope Abel's got."

Shoulders rounded, Mr. Greenlaw walked into the bedroom. Chris followed him a moment later.

The room was deceptively still. Nathan sat next to the lamp reading intently, flipping from one section of the large book to another, trying to absorb everything he needed to know. The Greenlaws sat at either side of the head of the bed, each offering what they could. Mrs. Greenlaw fussed with a cup of something, maybe still the willow tea, maybe something else, trying to get Abel to drink. Mr. Greenlaw stroked Abel's black curls away from his face, more gentleness in his touch than Chris would have guessed the man was capable of. Mrs. Stokely folded bandages in the corner. Didn't seem necessary to Chris, but it was something for her to do and feel useful at.

At the foot of the bed, Josiah stood, head bowed in prayer. His deep voice was soft, but in the hush of the room it was clearly audible to all. "Lord, some folks say You don't ask of people more than they can give. And that's true. But sometimes Your tests are mighty difficult. Please give all these folks the power to face this one." Nathan flipped a page on the other side of the room, and ran a hand over his head. "And please give Your servant Nathan strength and steadiness so he can care for the boy in accordance with Your Great Plan. Amen."

A chorus of amens rippled around the room, none more fervent than the one from Nathan. He set his book down and looked around the room. "Where's Vin? We need one more."

"He had to ride to town. He'll be back as soon as he can," Chris said. Mr. Greenlaw scowled, but said nothing.

Nathan looked at the boy again, and appeared to make a decision. He stood straight and faced them all. "Can't wait for him. We best get started while Abel's still got the strength. Miz Greenlaw, Miz Stokely, it's time for you ladies to step out now. Be watching for Vin to get back. Tell him he needs to wash his hands good then come straight in. I'll need his help."

Mrs. Stokely stepped forward and coaxed the other woman out of the room. Mr. Greenlaw stood to follow them, but Nathan stopped him. "We're gon' need your help, sir. I don't think the boy's got much fight in him right now but if he's got any strength at all, I'll need you to hold him down. He'll trust you more than any stranger."

Mr. Greenlaw looked at Chris, a question in his eyes. Chris nodded. "He's right. It was just a fight, Jacob," Chris said, using the man's Christian name for the first time. "Don't mean the trust is gone. Or the love."

When Mr. Greenlaw took his place at the head of the bed, Nathan handed the medical book to Josiah and said, "I need you to read to me, Josiah. Make sure I don't forget nothing. If he thrashes, help hold him down, but don't stop readin'."

Josiah took the book and moved to the far side of the bed. While Nathan laid the tools out and set a basin on the floor at the edge of the bed, Josiah read silently, preparing himself for his assigned task. He paled as he did so, and Chris knew from that what was to come. Knew it was going to be bad. He'd seen the results of battlefield amputations during and after the War, heard the screams from the hospital tents, walked past the pile of feet and legs and arms left to rot in the sun, but he'd hoped to never have to witness one.

Nathan turned to Chris. "I need you to help me. Hand me tools when I ask for them, keep things clear of blood so's I can see, anything that seems to need doin'. Can you do that?"

With a conscious effort, Chris set aside his nausea and fear and steeled himself, putting on the same strength with which he'd face a gunfight. Hell, a gunfight'd be easier than facing this. "Just let me go wash up. I can do whatever you need me to."

Nathan walked with him to the kitchen, where they washed their hands together. "I hope Vin gets back before we get to sawing bone. If I'd known he was going back to town, I'd've asked him to bring Ezra. He's got the lightest touch of all of us. According to the book, it's a real delicate job holding the leg just right for the sawing."

"We'll deal with that when we come to it," Chris said. "Let's do it."

***

Nathan forced a dose of laudanum down Abel's throat before they got started, his touch less gentle than Mrs. Greenlaw's had been but far more successful. "That'll take some of the edge off the pain."

Chris looked at the boy, face streaked with laudanum that had run out of his mouth and with the blood that still trickled slowly from his nose, and wondered if he would feel any pain at all.

At the first touch of the knife, Abel arched his back weakly and rasped out a moan. Mr. Greenlaw wrapped his arms around his boy's shoulder and held him still, whispering something in his ear. Chris blotted at the bleeding cut with a roll of soft cotton fabric Nathan handed him, remembering his instructions to keep the site clear so Nathan could see.

Chris lost himself in the task of fighting the bleeding, until all he saw was seeping red blood and pink muscle, all he heard was the sodden sound of twist after twist of bloody cotton dropping into the basin at his feet. Josiah's deep voice was a drone in the background, but Chris didn't try to make any words out of it. Nathan, at his side, worked as quickly as his inexperience allowed, pushing Chris out of the way when necessary.

Chris's hands were stained red up past his wrists and he could see it spreading over the sheets and towels under Abel. He sopped up more, thinking for a time that there couldn't possibly be enough cotton in the world to soak up this one boy's blood. Then, as Nathan got through the second layer of muscle and began to lay bare the bone, the bleeding slowed.

Chris cleaned out the wound again and took a deep breath. It might just be a lull in the battle, probably was, but at least here he could take a deep breath and reload for the next round.

As he wiped his face on his arm, Vin walked into the room, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, tanned skin almost as pale as milk. "I done washed up, Nathan, what do you need me to do?" He looked like he was about to pass out, but his jaw was set and there was hardness in his eyes that Chris rarely saw.

Nathan looked up at him. "I need you and Chris to hold the leg straight and steady while I saw through the bone. One at each end."

While Chris held Abel's leg at the hip, Vin stepped forward to wrap his hands around the leg just above Abel's knee. Their eyes met and held. Chris offered a tiny nod and Vin, tight lipped, returned it. Vin gripped the leg, tearing the swollen, blistered skin and staining his fingers with blood, but he didn't flinch, just held on firmly. "This the right angle?"

Nathan nodded, "Hold that as best you can." He picked up the saw and swallowed hard, gathering his own strength.

Josiah read slowly, in his preaching voice, "In order to form a groove for the saw, it is best to begin by drawing the instrument against the bone with a backward sweep, the teeth near the handle being first applied to the part close to the operator's left thumb or fingernail and the whole extent of the edge is then to be steadily and briskly drawn back to the point." He looked up and said more normally, "Says here to make long smooth strokes with the saw, Nathan. Says that's important."

Nathan nodded and laid the base of the saw to the bone. He'd just started his draw when there was a choked sob from the unfathomable distance of the head of the bed. They all turned to look that way and saw Mr. Greenlaw, head bent over Abel. He said, "He's not fighting anymore, Mr. Jackson. Is he...?"

Josiah reached up and felt at the boy's wrist and neck. After a few moments, he shook his head slowly, and rested his big hand on Mr. Greenlaw's shoulder. "I can't find a pulse, Nathan."

Nathan leaned down and held his ear over Abel's mouth. He listened hard, ears straining for any sign of breath, but he found none. "He's not breathing."

Mr. Greenlaw bit back another sob, his whole body almost breaking with the strain of staying upright and keeping the tears that glittered in his eyes from falling. He wrapped his arms tighter around Abel for a moment, then released him into Josiah's care. Josiah closed Abel's glassy eyes as he laid the boy back on the bed.

Nathan looked down at his hands, streaked with blood, and sagged onto a chair. "I...I'm sorry, Mr. Greenlaw. There wasn't nothin' else I could do." Chris put his hand on Nathan's shoulder, leaving a dark smear of blood on the plain brown calico.

Vin released his hold on Abel's leg and stood straight. Chris almost thought Vin was going to say something for a second, but then he turned toward the pile of fresh linens on the table. While Josiah stood by Mr. Greenlaw, Vin pulled a fresh sheet over Abel and the bloody wreck of the bed.

Chris knelt on the floor, picking up soaked swabs that had spilled out of the overflowing basin. His stained hand met Vin's as they both reached for the same piece and he looked up into shadowed blue eyes. There was a ghost in Vin's eyes that Chris wished he could ease away, but that didn't stop him from taking strength from Vin's presence. He tried to say thank you with a nod, but when Vin looked away he wasn't sure that the message had been received.

When they'd collected the last of the mess, and Chris had swabbed up the blood on the floor with a towel, Vin gathered up the basin. Nathan still seated and looking stunned, turned to Vin and said, "Just put that in my wagon. I'll boil them clean back in town." Vin made a face but said nothing.

Chris stood and offered Nathan his hand. "Let's get washed up, Nathan. Then I'll break the news to Mrs. Greenlaw."

Vin turned to them from the door and said, "No." His voice held an edge of command that Chris didn't normally hear in it. "I'll tell her, after I put this out in the wagon. She hadn't ought to be kept waiting." Before either of them could say anything, he slipped out the door, walking away with hardly a sound.

Chris pulled Nathan to his feet and they went to wash at the pump outside. The night was dark and moonless, and there was a chill in the air that was a stark contrast to the heat of the day. While he pumped for Nathan, he looked at the dark night and marveled that the surgery, which seemed to have taken days, had in reality only taken a couple of hours. A long high-pitched keen, muffled by the log walls of the cabin, echoed through the night. Then there was silence around the homestead, pierced only by the distant yipping of a coyote.

Vin'd told Mrs. Greenlaw then.

After they'd both washed, silently cleaning away the traces of their ordeal, and Abel's, Chris rested his hand on Nathan's shoulder. "You did the best you could, Nathan. No doctor could have done more."

With a nod, Nathan leaned against the wall outside the door. "I don't know that I did right by that boy or his family with that surgery. It was clear when y'all rode up with him that the poison done got him. But I couldn't just sit by and do nothing. Not with his momma there dying with every breath he fought to take."

"You did the right thing," Chris said. "You cared enough to try. They'll come to appreciate that." He squeezed the shoulder under his hand and walked inside, leaving Nathan outside to clear his mind with the fresh night air.

Vin was in the sitting room, leaning against the far wall, hat pulled right down over his eyes. "Josiah and Miz Stokely are sitting with them."

Chris found a bottle of whiskey and a mug on a shelf. He poured a stiff shot for Vin, who was still too pale for his liking, and handed it to him. "You okay?"

Vin took the mug and stared into it, but made no move to drink. "I ain't the one you should be asking. Ain't my son lying in there half cut apart."

"No, but I can see something's not right," Chris said, soft.

Vin looked at Chris for a minute, eyes sad, then shook his head and tossed back the shot. He handed Chris the empty mug and said, "Sometimes you see too much." At the door to the sickroom he looked back over his shoulder. "Sometimes." After a quick glance at Chris, he went in.

***

The funeral was held in the afternoon under a sun so hot it bleached the sky and made the air ripple in the distance. The hint of a breeze that had kept the previous day nearly tolerable was gone, and the air was completely still. There were only a couple of townspeople there to stand with the Greenlaws, who hadn't been in town long enough to make many friends. Mrs. Stokely was there of course, and her grown son John, returned that afternoon from some business in Eagle Bend. Mary Travis, always kindly in her concern about other people's business, had arranged for the restaurant to have a light supper to follow the funeral, to take the worry about cooking and cleaning off Mrs. Greenlaw.

All seven of the peacekeepers were there. Josiah, of course was officiating, at the request of the Greenlaws, who stood immediately next to him. Nathan stood behind the family, head bowed. Chris stood in the dappled shade of the one half-bare tree, Buck right at his elbow. As usual, JD wasn't far from Buck, and Ezra was behind them, slouching against the tree trunk, hat pulled low. Chris suspected him of dozing during the preliminaries, but said nothing. Vin, despite Chris inviting him over to share their shade, such as it was, stood as far away as the fence would allow, watching from behind Josiah.

Mrs. Greenlaw sobbed into a handkerchief and leaned heavily on her husband, who stood ramrod straight. His eyes never left the coffin in front of him, and Chris thought for a second he could make out the track of a tear down a thin cheek.

Josiah, voice rumbling like distant thunder and bringing all the comfort a rainshower would have, said, "Heavenly Father, please welcome your son Abel Greenlaw into the shelter of your arms and give him all the peace and comfort he has earned in his short life upon your Earth." At the first sound of Josiah's voice, Ezra roused and moved forward to stand closer to the graveside. "We will rest comfortable in the knowledge that he is in a better place now, a place with no toil or sorrow. Please help all of us who are left behind, but most especially his parents, find the fortitude to face the bad times that are to come."

Chris swallowed hard, remembering standing by the graves of Adam and Sarah as Buck silently prayed next to him. The only words Chris could think of to say over them were, "I love you both," and Buck had simply said "Goodbye." Close next to him, Chris heard Buck's breath waver for a minute and knew he was remembering that other graveside, those other two graves, as well.

Josiah went on, "Even more than that, they'll need strength to accept that there are good times ahead of them as well. Not tomorrow, not next week, but there will be happiness. Sometimes it can be hard to recognize for what it is, and hard to accept. So please give them the wisdom to recognize it, and the courage to reach out and take hold of it when it comes."

Josiah's voice faded to a murmur in his ear as Chris looked to Vin. Their eyes met and Chris felt the same powerful sense of knowing that he'd felt the first time he saw Vin across the dusty street on another hot day. Vin's head tilted in a question and Chris nodded. Vin's face lightened a hair, the grim hardness fading from around eyes and mouth. Wisdom and courage, Chris could feel them both in his reach now, for the first time since Sarah died.

Chris continued to look at Vin, lost in what he was finally letting himself see there, until the thud of the first handful of dirt on the pine coffin brought him back to what was happening. Josiah, wiping the dirt off his hands, invited the Greenlaws to each take a handful of the newly turned earth and drop it into the grave. Mr. Greenlaw hesitated as he did so and Chris watched him swallow a sob before he turned his hand over and let the dirt fall.

Josiah intoned the final words, "We return to you as we came, Lord. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust." Josiah gave Mary Travis a nod and she stepped forward, took a handful of the dirt and dropped it on the grave, then paid her respects to the Greenlaws and left, heading for the hotel. The Stokelys followed, Mrs. Stokely waiting outside the cemetery yard to escort them to the supper, her son leaving after shaking Mr. Greenlaw's hand.

Ezra followed John Stokely, wiping his hand carefully as he said, "My condolences for your loss, sir, ma'am."

Buck stayed by Chris as all of the peacekeepers expressed sympathy, though it was more heartfelt, perhaps, from those who'd been there with Abel, and his parents, the night before. The ones who knew the extent of the suffering he'd had to endure.

Buck waited a couple of paces away while Chris dropped a handful of dirt on the coffin, the hollow thump muted now. The sound echoed in his heart, and yet he felt new somehow, as though this funeral, a real funeral like he hadn't been able to face giving Sarah and Adam, had somehow brought him a small measure of peace from his own pain. After shaking Mr. Greenlaw's hand and tipping his hat to the lady, Chris turned to Josiah and shook his as well. Maybe someday he'd tell Josiah what those words had meant to him.

Chris stepped aside to wait for Vin, but before he could pick up a handful of the dirt, Mr. Greenlaw stopped him with a gesture and led his wife away, moving quickly. Chris, Buck, Josiah and Vin were all stunned for a moment, so Chris didn't catch up to them until they were almost to the cemetery gate.

"Why?" he demanded, without preamble.

Mr. Greenlaw raised his head, his dark brown eyes snapping. "Abel is dead because that man failed to find him," he said, simply.

Almost shaking with anger, with the need to make them understand, Chris said, spitting the words, "There's no one who could have, Jacob. At least you got a chance to say goodbye, to tell him you love him one last time and know he could hear you. I know what it's like to come home and find your family dead. To never have that chance. Vin gave you a blessing and you're too blind to see it."

The Greenlaws said nothing, simply sidestepped around Chris and walked out of the cemetery. Chris looked for Vin, but saw only Josiah standing by the open grave hands spread in a helpless gesture.

Buck started to walk away and Chris followed, leaving the undertakers to finish filling the grave. As they neared the hotel, Chris saw Vin riding hard out of town, in the same direction they'd tracked Abel the day before.

At the door to the restaurant, Buck stopped. "You coming in?"

Chris shook his head. "No, they don't want to see me now. You go on, though."

Buck tilted his head and looked at Chris out of the corner of his eye. "If you're going to the saloon, I reckon I'll go with you. I could use a beer."

Chris wondered at the offer for a moment. He knew that Buck had worried about him since Sarah and Adam died. Hell, for the first year Buck hardly let him go to the backhouse alone for fear he'd kill himself, or someone else, while he was taking a piss. Even when they weren't riding together, though, Buck always seemed to be there when Chris needed him. Showing up in the same town just by chance when the anniversary of their deaths came near so he could stay to ease Chris over both the drunk and the hangover he always put himself through. Helping Chris when he was hired to provide safe escort for a woman who bore a terrible, beautiful resemblance to Sarah. Every time Chris teetered on the edge of despair, it seemed that Buck was right there.

In recent months, since settling in Four Corners, since meeting Vin, though, Chris'd changed. Lost some of the charred blackness he'd carried around his heart and soul, like the wreck of his home. Or maybe he'd just found the strength to carry around that blackness without it bearing him down under the weight of it. His pain and grief hadn't changed, but he was slowly becoming a lot more willing to live with it, to look forward to the future despite the pain in his past. Getting stronger, or maybe wiser, just like Josiah'd talked about.

"I was thinking I'd ride out and join Vin," he finally said, wishing he knew how to convey his gratitude for Buck's steadfast loyalty. Hoping Buck could hear it. Chris let just a whisker of a smile show, and turned to walk toward the livery.

Buck stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and asked, "You gonna need help?" He was smiling too, just a bit, head tipped in that way of his.

Chris shook his head and pursed his lips for a second, then said, "No, I know where he's going. You go on in and sit with the family. They'll appreciate it."

***

Chris took the time to pack for a night out of town, taking food for two and an extra blanket. Vin hadn't had time to do much more than saddle Peso before racing out of there. He nodded to Josiah, sitting outside the restaurant with Mrs. Stokely as he rode past.

Josiah nodded and said, "You going to look for some wisdom, Brother?"

Chris reined in his horse as he shook his head. "Think I found some. Just need to decide what to do about it."

Head tilted back, appraising, Josiah said, "Takes a brave man to face happiness after building his life around pain." Chris narrowed his eyes, but said nothing, and after a moment, Josiah went on, "But I've never known you to be a coward."

Chris tipped his hat to Josiah and Mrs. Stokely, who was looking away down the street pretending she wasn't listening, and rode away.

He found Vin where he expected to, at the flat rocks where they'd lost Abel's trail. When Chris pulled up, Vin stood and dusted off his hands and looked toward the town. "Everything okay back there?"

"Reckon. Everything okay out here?"

Vin nodded. "Reckon." He looked at the rock under his feet. "Just doing some studyin'. I know them tracks is here now. It's easier to learn how to read 'em when you know what they say."

Chris dismounted. "You do what you need to do, Vin. I'll be here."

Vin looked at him for a minute, looking like he was trying to think of the right words to say, then he gave up and just nodded and turned back to the rock. Chris found a patch of shade, thrown by a bush that would hardly shelter a rabbit, and sat in it.

He pulled his book out of his pocket, thinking to read, but he found his eyes continually drawn back to Vin. Vin'd taken his coat off, and his thin shirt was sticking to his back in the heat, clinging to skin and shaping muscle. Vin moved slowly across the rock, back and forth with a patience Chris couldn't even begin to understand. Sometimes he spent several minutes in one place, cheek to the heated stone, looking across toward the setting sun.

After a time, Chris slid his book back into his pocket and stood so that he could see better. He didn't realize he was moving until he found himself standing at the edge of the rock, close to Vin's shoulder. With the sense that he was gathering up a scattered courage to seize onto happiness he was only just starting to see, he brushed a curl off of Vin's cheek, letting his fingers linger over the stubbled skin. His voice was rough with dust and emotion and an hour of silence when he said, "Show me."

Vin sat up carefully and looked at Chris with searching eyes. When he finally said, "Okay", head turned away, Chris felt as though he'd passed some hurdle he didn't even know he was facing.

Vin moved aside, making room for Chris to take his position. "The rock don't take tracks good, but they're still there. Everyone always leaves a mark wherever they go, it's just a matter of finding it." He tapped the rock a few feet away from where Chris squatted. It looked like the rest of the rock, dun and dusty. "From standing up you can't see nothing, but get right down and look across the rock and...," his hands gently guided Chris's head into position, cheek against the smooth, hot stone, looking toward the setting sun. His hand, warm but still comforting, slid from Chris's shoulder down to the small of his back. It might have been thoughtless or casual from someone else, but from Vin it was as good as a caress, and Chris's eyes fluttered closed in response to it.

With a breath Chris opened his eyes, and looked at the rock where the fingertips of Vin's other hand rested. There it was, a disarray in the fine dust on the rock, hardly more than a difference in the way the angled light reflected off it. A foot print. Chris blinked in surprise and Vin chuckled. "Comes straight out at you when you're looking for it right, don't it? That's one of mine from yesterday. My boot heels always wear more on the one side than the other." He pointed and pointed again. "Real easy to spot." He moved a little away, leaving an empty place on Chris's back where his hand had been, and indicated another place on the rock. Chris turned his eyes in that direction. "This here's one of Abel's. See?"

Chris saw the sharper outline Vin indicated, and sat back up. "Brand new shoes, right?"

Vin smiled at him and nodded, then walked a few feet back toward Pony, searching the grass, he squatted and gestured for Chris to join him. When Chris did, Vin took his hand, moved it over the ground, tracing with Chris's finger the barest outline of a print in the grass. "This here's one of yours, while you was standing with the horses yesterday."

Chris traced again what Vin had shown him. "How do you know it's mine?"

Hand still on Chris's, Vin said, "I always know your tracks, cowboy. Them spurs of yours are longer than some, make a mark sometimes. You always walk with long straight strides and you stand with your weight even on your feet, side to side and front to back, ready to move. And, look here." He moved his hand away and Chris found himself reaching to follow it. Vin separated a few blades of grass and showed Chris a grey smudge on the ground. "From the cheroot you was smokin'. Wouldn't prove nothing by itself, lots of folks smoke cigars like that, but with everything else...got to be you."

The meaning of what Vin was saying rocked Chris back on his heels. "You've studied my tracks?" he asked.

Vin looked away for a second, then back at him, meeting Chris's eyes squarely. "Yeah," he said, without blinking.

"Anyone else?" Chris asked, feeling a jolt of something strange and hot.

Without breaking their gazes, Vin tilted his head. "Only when I'm following them. You mind?"

Chris smiled, so far from minding he was amazed Vin could even raise the question. Without letting his eyes waver from Vin's, he said, "No," pleased by the way Vin's eyes widened in response.

Vin nodded and stood, wiping his hands on the seat of his trousers, then walked back to the rock and sat down on it. "When we were here yesterday, it was earlier in the day and the light wasn't so good. The sun has to be pretty low to spot them tracks easy like that." He gestured to the tracks on the stone, invisible from this angle. "I figured he'd run straight across, or maybe turn thataway," he pointed to a cottonwood tree off in the middle distance. "There's a wash over there, water and shade. Nice place. I didn't expect he'd turn south. Ain't nothing but desert that way." He wiped off his face with his bandanna. "And he banged his foot jumping off the rock, changed his print for a bit until he'd walked the pain off. 'S why I didn't find his track right away when I was circling around."

Chris sat down next to Vin. "It's not your fault, Vin."

Vin shrugged, and squinted across at the red-orange sun, low on the horizon. "Plan to spend tomorrow getting so's I can spot those tracks no matter where the sun is. Maybe losin' Abel weren't my fault, but next time it will be if I don't learn this."

Chris pulled out his hip flask and took a drink, then passed it to Vin, who drank. "You want company?"

Vin turned and smiled at him, completely open in his pleasure at the offer, though his words were more restrained. "If you're of a mind to stay."

Chris smiled himself. "I am. I'm also of a mind to make camp and get some supper." Chris rose to his feet again and offered Vin his hand, saying, "I brought biscuits and a can of beans."

Vin made a face and let Chris pull him to his feet. "Hell, I can do better than beans. You go make camp. Turn left at that cottonwood and follow the trees back until you find a good spot. Start a fire. I'll rustle us up some dinner." Chris watched him walk away for a minute, then hunkered down to look for Vin's footsteps in the grass.

When he found one, he stayed for a while, just looking. Remembering. He wanted to always know Vin's tracks as Vin knew his.

***

Supper was roasted prairie chicken and biscuits and the comfortable silence Chris cherished. When they'd finished with the washing up, Chris laid out his bedroll. From where he sat on the other side of the fire, Vin said, "Didn't think to bring a blanket. Good thing it's a nice night."

Chris held up the extra blanket he'd brought. "Thought you might have forgotten," he said, offering it to Vin. He looked down at the bedroll at his feet and said, very carefully, "Or we could share."

Vin walked to him, standing closer even than he usually did. "You sure you want that, Chris? If we do that there ain't no going back for me."

Chris wasn't surprised by Vin's words. Whatever it was they shared was too deep, too real to be trifled with or taken thoughtlessly. He knew it was the same for him, if they laid together there'd be no going back, only forward. He thought maybe he ought to feel uncomfortable about that, or nervous. Lord knew, he'd never thought before about taking this step with Vin, with anyone. Not since the wind carried the words "I love you both" away from Sarah and Adam's graves. But it was high time he took hold of the happiness in front of him.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Vin taking the spare blanket from his hand, keeping his head ducked and hidden by his hat brim. Chris grabbed his wrist and stopped him from walking away to the other side of the fire. "I'm sure. No going back."

Vin turned to look at him then, searching his face for a moment before smiling. It wasn't one of the big grins that sometimes changed his whole face, but it still showed a world of happiness. "All right, then," he said, taking Chris's forearm in the only handshake they'd ever used between them.

For a fraction of a second, Chris felt as though he was making a business deal, but the feeling had barely had time to solidify when Vin moved right into him, arms still clasped, and kissed Chris, pressing their lips hard together. Chris wrapped his free arm around Vin's shoulders, holding him close and deepening the kiss, licking Vin's lips until they parted on a sigh. When their tongues met Vin moaned, then pulled away from the kiss, just enough to lead Chris down to the bedroll.

When they lay down Chris leaned in to kiss Vin again, but was stopped by a hand on his mouth. "Never been with anyone like this before," he said, looking into Chris's eyes.

Chris considered that, trying to gauge what Vin meant. He didn't look embarrassed or ashamed, just serious. "With a man? I didn't expect you had, Vin."

Vin shook his head. "Naw, with someone who mattered to me. Ain't never been nothing but sport for me before. This is different and I'm not sure how to go about it."

Chris kissed Vin's fingers where they rested across his mouth, then took Vin's hand away. "We'll figure it out," he said, before rolling over him and pressing him back with a hard kiss.

Their lovemaking was halting and awkward, the passion interrupted by whispered requests and instructions. Even with the awkwardness, though, Chris knew this was the happiness he'd been too blind to let himself see and afraid to let himself have. When it was all done, they found themselves completely spent, with Chris curled around Vin from behind, one hand cupping Vin's soft cock, just holding it gently.

Vin reached back to rest his hand on Chris's hip, pulling him closer, and said, "I'm glad you came out after me, Chris." He wasn't just talking about that day, Chris knew, and he wondered for a moment how long Vin had been waiting for this, wanting it.

Chris kissed the back of his neck and said, "Me too. I'm just sorry it took so long."

Vin chuckled. "I don't mind a wait, least not when I'm waiting on something good." He sobered after a second and stroked Chris's hip again. Turning to look over his shoulder as best he could, he said, "Damn sorry it took Abel dying to make it happen though."

Chris nodded, somber. "Me too. Though I do owe Josiah a thank you."

Vin settled himself into Chris's arms and said, "Reckon he knows he was talking to you?"

Chris kissed his neck again and thought about Josiah's words on his way out of town. "Yeah. I think he does. Figure he knows exactly why I came after you today."

Vin turned his head again, half rising up to look a him. "You okay with that? Him knowing?"

Chris gently nudged him back down with his shoulder. "Josiah's not the sort to begrudge anyone happiness if they can find it."

Vin was quiet for a long time, but Chris could tell by his breathing that he wasn't asleep. Finally he said, "Didn't think I would."

"No?" Chris asked.

"I don't want to settle down with a wife and children, Chris, never have," Vin said, voice soft, "thought that meant I'd live alone."

Chris put his hand flat on Vin's chest over his heart, felt the solid thumping, and said, "You don't have to. I'm not planning on going anywhere."

Vin put his hand over Chris's, pressing it into his chest. "Me neither," he said softly and settled into Chris's arms.

 

*** EPILOGUE ***

 

A few weeks later, Chris and Vin walked along the sidewalk together, shoulder to shoulder. There had been a problem the day before with some cowhands stirring up trouble and shooting out windows, but the troublemakers were in the jail and Four Corners was quiet now.

As they walked in front of the General Store, Chris asked, "Miss Nettie need us to give her a hand out at the ranch?"

Head tilted, eyes filled with a question, Vin answered, "Yeah, I told her we'd be out tomorrow. Casey's taken up hunting in a big way and they're building a smokehouse."

"Trying to show JD she can keep meat on the table?" Chris said, laughing.

Vin smiled, but looked at Chris appraisingly. Chris pointed at the street, softened by the rains that had finally come to wash the dust and heat away. There in the soft dirt were a jumble of footmarks and a wagon track.

Vin laughed. "You've been studyin'."

"Just you," Chris said, walking a little closer so he could put a hand on Vin's back for a second.

"How'd you know it was Nettie?" Vin asked.

Chris smiled. "You stood and talked for a bit at the wagon."

Vin stopped and leaned against a post, looking out across the street. Mr. Greenlaw was loading crates into the back of a wagon. Inside their shop, Mrs. Greenlaw was barely visible, packing rolls of ribbon into a box. Mr. Greenlaw looked up from his work and, spotting them, started across the street. Vin touched Chris's elbow then disappeared into the General Store.

Mr. Greenlaw stopped in front of Chris, looking over his shoulder to the doorway of the store for a second. "Ruth and I have decided to move on," he said, without preamble.

"Going back to Boston?" Chris asked.

"No, on to San Francisco," Mr. Greenlaw said. Chris was surprised by the answer but just nodded. "Our goods are a little too fancy for this town, but I think they'll do well there."

Chris nodded. "Could be they will. When are you leaving?"

"We're leaving on the stage tomorrow. We've hired a drover to meet us there with the wagon." He looked again to the door of the general store, then back at Chris. "I'd like to thank you for everything you did for us. And for Abel," he said, offering Chris his hand.

"You're welcome," Chris said, shaking the offered hand. "I hope Frisco treats you well, Jacob."

Mr. Greenlaw nodded once in answer, then walked into the store. Through the window, Chris watched him approach Vin, who looked as wary as a half-broken horse. When Mr. Greenlaw spoke, though, Vin relaxed and even smiled. Their conversation wasn't long, but in the end it was Vin who offered the other man his hand to shake.

When Mr. Greenlaw walked out of the store, he stopped again to say, "You'll pass my thanks on to Reverend Sanchez," Chris smiled at Josiah's likely response to that, "and Mr. Jackson, in case I don't see them?"

"I will," Chris said, inclining his head. Vin appeared at his side and tipped his hat to Mr. Greenlaw as he walked away.

Chris looked at Vin, relaxed and easy. Vin nodded and tilted his head in the direction they'd been walking. Chris ambled on again, Vin falling in next to him. Just like things ought to be.


End file.
